A girl can dream, right?
I take a deep breath and grab a red pepper, giving myself an internal pep talk to stop thinking about the what-ifs, when I hear the distinct sound of crowd applause followed by guitar chords I’d know anywhere.
Our song.
That’s what I think of it as now. It used to be the song that reminded me of such a bad place in my life. A day I never wanted to think about again. Yet, with one night, one man, and one dare, I can now listen to it without pain, but most importantly, I can sing it.
I turn it up before closing my eyes, letting the opening chords, and then the male lead’s words, run through me. Of course I transport myself back to Vegas. I think to how Maddox looked on stage. So poised. So confident. So handsome. Howwhen he turned to pass the song off to me, the care and gentleness in his eyes was overflowing. He gave me more encouragement in that moment than I had received in years.
I should’ve known then he was different. Boy how stubborn was I…
Why couldn’t I see it? Since the second I met him, that man has never faltered when it came to me and what I needed. He gave me strength that night and with that performance, just like he has every day since we met. He comforted me then when I broke down after the song the same way he did in the bathroom when we found out about Tiny Tot. He brought me back to life in that Vegas hotel room and has continued to do so every day I spend with him.
When the female lyrics come on, I don't hesitate to start singing. And I don’t hold back. I put down my knife, take a deep breath, and let the words I know by heart ring out. I'm so lost in the moment that I don't hear anything else or realize that a certain someone has come behind me, wrapping his arms around my very large stomach.
"I love hearing you sing," he whispers, kissing my neck, just underneath my ear.
I think the only thing that could get me to stop singing this song is Maddox Gallagher’s lips on me. “Then why’d you stop me?”
Maddox’s hips start swaying back and forth, his hands guiding me to dance with him. “Keep going gorgeous.”
I listen to the song, doing my best to sing with the lyrics, but I’m having trouble concentrating while Maddox’s mouth is doing everything in its power to distract me.
“I’m off the deep…” I can barely get the words out, and they’re just above a whisper. Maddox’s mouth is hot and the open kisses are now moving down the length of my neck to my shoulders. He pushes down the strap of my cotton sundressas his mouth continues to travel up and down my neck to my shoulder, leaving me hot, bothered, and definitelynotthinking about singing.
“Do you know how fucking sexy it is to walk into our house—our home—and see you like this? Your body looking like this? Hearing you sing? Seeing you so happy?”
I shake my head because if he’s lying, I never want him to stop. Sexy is the last thing I’ve felt recently that I’ve crossed the ten-weeks-to-go mark. Example A is the sundress I’m wearing. It’s not a sexy one. It’s made of cotton T-shirt material that hangs on me, but between the still-summer heat and my size, it’s the most comfortable thing I own. Which means I bought one in every color. I know it isn’t the most flattering article of clothing, but Maddox doesn’t care. I can feel what I’m doing to him. One would think I was wearing French lace and thousand-dollar lingerie.
His hands reach up, cupping my heavy breasts in each of his hands. “Gorgeous was the first word I thought of when you walked up on that stage. But every day I spend with you I realize that word isn’t enough. And every other word that comes to mind doesn’t feel strong enough.”
If I wasn’t horny before, I am now.
I turn around into him and drape my arms over his shoulders. “Then show me.”
His eyebrows raise in a question. One downside to becoming as big as this kitchen is that my sex drive has plummeted. Most days I can’t get comfortable laying down, let alone trying to have sex.
I know Maddox doesn’t care about our little drought—at least if he does, he’s the best actor I’ve ever seen—but I’ve missed it. Him. That connection. I know we love each other. We tell each other that dozens of times a day. He always kisses me before I leave for the bakery, or he leaves for practice, and it’s the firstthing either of us do when the other gets home. But for a person who didn’t think physical intimacy was a love language I needed to realizing I crave it, it’s been a slight shock to not have.
But for the first time in weeks, I want it. I need it.
I need Maddox.
“Are you sure?” he asks, concern pooling through his still heated eyes. “I didn’t mean for?—”
I put my finger up to his mouth. “I want you Maddox. I want us. Just… maybe not on my back.”
Yes, it was a cautious warning, but then I see when my words hit the creative side of his brain. “I think that can be arranged.”
Before I can ask any questions, Maddox is swooping me up in his arms, carrying me bridal style to the living room.
“Maddox! Put me down. I’m the size of a whale.”
“Don’t talk about the mother of my child and the love of my life like that,” he says as he pecks a kiss on my cheek as he walks me to our finally furnished living room. “Plus, you forget that I’m a professional athlete. Every part of my day is lifting weights. You think I’m doing that to tackle grown men? Ha! What are these muscles for if I can’t carry my girl across the house?”
I giggle as Maddox sets me down in front of the expansive sectional that was delivered a few days ago. It seats twelve, takes up a large part of the open-concept first floor, and is by far the most comfortable piece of furniture I’ve ever laid on. Now I guess we see how it holds up to whatever Maddox has in mind.
“Arms up,” he instructs, and I do so without question. He quickly gathers the hem of my dress, lifting it over my head, leaving me in the ugliest pair of panties along with a cheap bra I bought because my boobs have never been this big before, and I don’t want to spend money on something I know I’m only going to need for a few months. Again, the blaze of heat in Maddox’s eyes can’t be faked as he unhooks the bra from the back, kissingbelow my ear, moving down a little more to let his tongue circle at my pulse.
